


you loved me and i froze in time.

by wolfspa



Series: nights like these [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: ?? maybe... kinda.., Brothel AU, M/M, idk what to call this ..., there's a lot of dick sucking ok that's all i know.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-04 09:42:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1774549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfspa/pseuds/wolfspa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan is <s>not so</s> fresh out of a bad marriage and spends most of his time sulking in his house until Jack convinces him otherwise. (Although when Jack said ''get your dick sucked'' Ryan is pretty sure he didn't mean it literally.) and Michael is sex for hire in a place most people would call a brothel where he's supposed to pretend to be a woman. Basically, it's just all kinds of fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the ''brothel'' is a weird place i thought up bc obviously i don't know how they work in real life, so somehow i'm imagining it like a doctors office. and ryan will step in and be like ''yes hello i would like one blow job please'' and the receptionist says ''yes right this way, dr jones will see you now''  
> and i kinda breezed over it in the text so, y e s, lindsay and barbara are also workers there. and kara is the one who usually mans the ''front desk''
> 
> p.s. i do not have a beta so please pardon any mistakes..  
> also the story skips around a lot at the end and ~~if i actually manage to update again~~ it will actually become myan pretty soon c:

"You need to get out of this house is what you need." Jacks voice carries from the kitchen to the living room. 

"Why should I?" Ryan counters. "I like sitting at home." And it's not a lie. Ryan is an introvert by nature. He enjoys quiet days at home but when there's been about 50 in a row, well... Maybe Jack has a point. 

"Right. And I love going to the dentist." Jack says sarcastically, emerging from the kitchen with two cups. He walks to the sofa and sits next to Ryan, holding out one of the glasses for him.

"What's that?" Ryan asks skeptically.

"Alcohol." Jack says, and Ryan grimaces. "Drink it." Jack shoves the drink into Ryan's hands, forcing him to take a tentative sip. He's not much of a drinker anymore and although this _whatever it is_ isn't great, he's had worse, and he takes another drink. 

"Alright come on." Ryan says, trading his drink for a controller, and Jack does the same. It doesn't take long for them to fall into their old routine of staying up until 4 a.m. playing video games and getting thoroughly drunk. 

"God dammit." Ryan huffs, setting down the controller. He leans his head back on the couch and he hears his character die for the fourth time in a row.

“You done?” Jack asks, his southern accent coming through a bit more now that he’s tired and drunk. 

“Yeah.” Ryan nods. “I’m getting all…” Ryan trails off, wiggling his fingers in a vague motion and Jack snorts. He fiddles with his controller and turns the console off, leaving a blue screen on the television. Ryan’s head falls to the side, and eventually ends up on Jack’s shoulder, who laughs lightly.

“Wanna cuddle?” Jack says, smiling.

“Shut up.” Ryan straightens himself out and stands up.

“I’m serious.” Jack blurts out and Ryan stares blankly at him before he continues. “About getting out of this house, not cuddling.” he laughs. “Ever since… you know..? You’ve been cranky. Get out. Get your dick sucked or something.” Jack rambles.

“Okay.” Ryan throws his hands up before he can keep talking. “That’s it. I’m going to sleep.” Jack laughs heartily as Ryan walks up the stairs, closing the door to his bedroom. He clumsily kicks off his sweatpants and flops down on the bed and despite his best efforts, he thinks about what Jack said.

His wife had left him, that’s what Jack meant. Granted, it was almost a year ago, and Ryan had now spent nearly a year cooped up in his house— his _wife’s house_ , doing nothing but feeling sorry for himself. That’s one long year filled with self pity and a lot of masturbating.

But Ryan goes to work and sometimes buys groceries. That counts as leaving the house, right? Ryan sighs loudly, rubbing his hands on his face. He tries not to think about his pathetic excuse of a life for too long, and he falls asleep quickly with the assistance of alcohol. 

He wakes up about 6 hours later to find that Jack had already left. The living room is a bit of a mess but he doesn’t bother to clean it properly. It’s not as if he’s about to have company any time soon. He pulls a bottle of water from the refrigerator and walks to his PC, which sits in the corner of his living room. 

This is probably 70% of his life— sitting at a computer and browsing the internet aimlessly. He doesn’t really talk to people and only sometimes does he use it for games, so when he tries to think back on just _how_ exactly he loses 12 hours a day on this fucking machine, he doesn’t really understand.

He leans back in his chair lazily, scrolling and clicking quickly through pages, his free hand resting on his stomach. He never really _means_ to do it, but somehow it just seems more comfortable to slide his fingers under the hem of his boxer briefs. He's not even looking at anything erotic but he reaches down further, brushing his fingers against his cock. He's half hard already and he sighs heavy, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing.

He doesn’t even look up porn, he just jerks off thinking about nothing in particular and there’s a weird feeling of disgust and guilt as he wipes the come from his hand. He walks to the bathroom and washes his hands and when he sits back down at the computer he thinks ‘maybe Jack was right.’

> Michael waits. He’s been told that he’s got a client coming but it’s taking a lot longer than usual for them to show up. He sits naked, with his bum back on his heels, in his cubicle, waiting to see what sort of guy he’s getting today. Sometimes he gets a little glimpse of them through the hole before it all starts, but he never sees their faces. He’s learned to gauge what kind of guy he gets by little things like if they wear belts, or if they only push their pants far enough down to get their cocks out, or how loud they are when Michael sucks them off.

He finally hears the jingle of someone walking in. Someone who either has a lot of change in their pockets or a large ring of keys. All of his clients are thoroughly instructed of what to do so that Michael doesn’t have to speak. A lot, if not all of these men expect a woman to be ‘servicing’ them. They would probably shit themselves if they knew it was a ginger kid from Jersey, but for them in this moment— a mouth is a mouth, and they will fuck it all the same.

He looks through the hole curiously and sees a man with light blue jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He can’t really tell how old he is, but when the guy lifts up his shirt slightly to undo his belt, Michael sees a glimpse of a flat and fairly toned looking stomach.

Michael leans back on his haunches again, noticing that the guy only unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his cock out of his underwear, not even pushing his pants down a little. _Nervous first timer_ , Michael thinks. 

He strokes himself a couple of times, Michael has a perfect view of that, and if he’s honest, the guy’s dick is pretty nice. It comes through the spacious hole in the wall and Michael doesn’t waste any time wrapping a hand around it, pumping lazily. He can hear the guy hiss at the contact and he smiles to himself. Even after all the times he’s done this, it really doesn’t get old knowing that he could have this much power over someone. And there’s something extra empowering about knowing that these men are under the impression that he’s a woman. That it’s a woman’s hand touching them and a woman’s mouth making them moan and cry out.

He strokes a few more times, and it doesn’t take long before the guy is completely hard, his cock straining upwards. He releases it, letting it bounce slightly before suddenly licking along the bottom of the entire length, and he swears he can feel the guy _shiver_. With his ego slightly inflated, he takes the tip into his mouth, sucking gently and licking the sensitive underside. His hand comes up to grip the base again, providing extra pressure while he laps at the tip.

He can hear the other guys breath hitch before he lets out a long sigh. Michael doesn’t usually get off to this, at least not anymore, and not this quickly, but there’s something about this guy that has Michael’s dick at full attention.

He ignores it for now and takes more of the cock into his mouth, slowly working his way down, using his tongue to wrap around and slick up the newly explored flesh. He forces himself down further, feeling the cock hit the back of his throat, licking at what he can, given his position. He pulls back slightly and closes his lips tight, sucking hard and definitely loving the way his client moans softly.

Michael places one hand on the wall between them to brace himself as he starts to move, taking as much of his dick with each pass as possible. He can hear the strangled gasps and groans of the man on the other side of the wall, and it’s making him painfully hard.

He admires this guy’s willpower— most people would have tried to fuck Michael’s face by now, and he almost wishes this guy would. He wants to hear him lose control.

He reaches his free hand down to stroke himself, thrusting gently into his hand as he continues his work on the guy in front of him. Michael does his best to make it as pleasurable as possible despite half of his focus going to his own dick, but he supposes he's not doing too poorly when the guy starts letting out a low string of profanities, his hips bucking gently into Michael's mouth.

His voice is deep and sweet sounding, and Michael wishes he would say something other than 'fuck'. Michael pumps himself harder, eager to come and he pushes down as far as he can, pressing his nose against the wall of his cubicle.

He can tell the guy is close and he risks humming around his cock, doing his best girl impression, and the guy comes down his throat in long, hot bursts. Michael swallows around him greedily before pulling back and moaning quietly to himself, his thumb teasing the underside of his dick as he watches his client tuck himself back into his jeans and button himself up. Michael comes hard, his free hand covering his mouth to suppress a whimper. 

He watches the client walk away and he really has no idea what it was about that guy, but whatever it was, it had his head spinning. He hadn't come that hard in a long time, and definitely not from just touching himself. He cleans himself up and sighs absentmindedly, waiting for his next client (who he knows he won't enjoy quite as much as the last).

> He can't resist it anymore and just three days after the first encounter, he returns. The place is something like a brothel, he supposes, but not in the old timey sense of the word. This is much much different from what he would call a brothel, but it serves the same purpose. He doesn't like the word brothel though. It makes it feel illegal— and it probably is illegal, but he pays with cash and all they have is his first name. 

When he enters this time, he feels slightly more comfortable, but still nervous. Mostly because he's going to ask for the same employee and he's not sure if that's weird. 

"You what?" The attendee at the desk asks him. 

"If I could.. have the same employee when I came here last?" He says nervously. 

"One moment." She says, stepping a few feet away and picking up a phone. She speaks quietly to whoever is on the other end before hanging up and turning back to him. "Okay, we can do that. We'll need to know the day you were here, the service you had, and which room number." 

He recites the required information, kicking himself for remembering the room number. She types something into her computer before looking up at him and smiling. "You had M." She says simply and Ryan isn't sure what to say.

"Em?" 

She nods. "Like the letter M. You'd like the same service again?" And it's Ryan's turn to nod. He pulls two one hundred dollar bills from his wallet, trying not to think about how he's spent almost $500 in three days. 

"Same procedure as before." The attendee says after taking his money and pointing him in the right direction. It's seems easier this time, and he's more comfortable and slightly more confident as he opens the door to the small grey room. He shuts the door and leans back against it, sighing lightly. He knows he shouldn't get into this but it's much better than he imagined. Of course he's had blowjobs before, but somehow this is surpassing all of that, and he's not sure if this employee is that good or if it's just been a long time.

He pushes the thoughts from his mind and steps forward, undoing the button to his jeans and stroking himself a few times. It feels like it might be a mistake but right now, he doesn't care.

> Michael's ears perk up at the first rings of jingling keys (he figured out that they were in fact keys). He ducks his head down, trying to peer through the hole. _No way_. he thinks, getting a good view of the same jeans from a few days before. The same hands unbuttoning them and pushing them down. The same flat stomach as he lifts up his (different) t-shirt. 

Almost identical to last time, he strokes himself very briefly before presenting Michael with a half hard dick. Michael has to stop himself from rushing forward and swallowing the whole thing down immediately. He tries to do things as he normally does, without emotion, but it's harder this time around.

People don't usually end up in your booth twice in a row. Unless the guy came every day and somehow ended up back in Michael's rotation, but he doesn't strike Michael as _that_ type. And Michael doesn't consider himself the type to get caught up in something like this but he can't help but feel drawn towards this guy. He makes a mental note to ask the girl at the desk about him later.

After using his hands for probably too long, he finally puts his mouth on him, sighing lightly at the feeling. He swallows him down completely, nearly gagging himself on this guy, and Michael doesn't hide his smile when he hears him gasp on the other side of the wall. 

Michael wants to encourage him to fuck his mouth, but he knows he can't say anything. Not only would it compromise his job, it would almost certainly ensure that this guy would never come back. 

Instead he settles for a slow pace, selfishly wanting this to last. He touches himself, already painfully hard and clumsily thrusting into his own hand. He licks at the underside of his cock, earning a low moan from his client, making his dick twitch. He fucking loves this guy's voice.

Michael pays extra attention to the head, sucking and licking gently and eventually, the guy's hips start to push forward, begging Michael to take more into his mouth, and how could he deny him? 

Michael's hand abandons his own dick to grip the base of the one in front of him and he redoubled his efforts, forcing himself down on his cock and sucking hard. He hears soft curses and moans flow from the other's mouth and Michael thinks he could definitely get used to this. He uses his hand to stroke what he can't manage at this pace, and not three strokes later the guy comes down his throat. 

> It's almost two weeks until Ryan goes again. 

> At first, Michael isn't sure if it's actually him, but the moment he shoves his jeans down, he knows. It should be embarrassing that he recognises someone by their dick, but he doesn't care at this point. He just wants to suck this guy off.

So he does.

> "Have you had this guy with like.." Michael starts, trying to think of how to explain this guy. "Jingling pants?" Lindsay just stares at him.

"I don't know what that means." Lindsay says, looking confused.

"Like he's got a lot of keys or some shit, his pants make a lot of noise." Michael waves his hands around, like that would somehow help him explain it better. "He wears light jeans all the time and.. He has a vast collection of plain t-shirts." 

" _What_ are you talking about?" Lindsay laughs lightly. 

"You've never had a guy like that?" 

"Can't say I have, Michael." She says, giggling.

"A guy like what?" Barbara asks, barging into the room. It's that time of night when it's too early for the morning crowd and too late for the drunk party crowd and a lot of the employees have nothing better to do than sit in the dressing room and chat.

"Loud pants." Lindsay says with a laugh. Barbara stops in her tracks and raises an eyebrow. 

"No!" Michael shouts. "It's a specific guy.. he's come to my booth three times now and I just.." He shrugs. "I wanted to know if he'd gone to anyone else's booth." 

Barbara just laughs. 

> "Come on, tell me." Michael begs. 

"You know I can't do that. You're not supposed to know who they are." Kara says shaking her head.

"I need to know." Michael whines. 

"Did he hurt you?" 

"No!"

"Then I can't tell you, Michael. It's against policy." Kara shrugs and _fuck her_ for being so hard headed. "It's a bad idea anyway. I'm doing you a favor." 

"What do you mean?" Michael asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Don’t fall in love with a client.” Kara says flatly and Michael sputters.

“I’m not in love.” he defends. Because he’s _not_. That would be fucking ridiculous. But the guy seems hot and he just wants to _know_ , and who knows, maybe he’s actually into dudes and—

“It’s still an awful idea. Isn’t that like, rule number one for you guys?”

Michael just stomps away angrily. He will find out, one way or another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack is kind of an asshole, Ryan makes a change for what he thinks is best for him, and Michael has a few mini-melt-downs. NBD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i'm just now realising how ''out of character'' this is for these two and i kind of hate it but i'm too far into it now.   
> no backsies.

"You're seeing someone." Jack says after a particularly long silence.

"I am not." Ryan defends quickly, swallowing too much of his food at once and nearly choking.

"Then why was it so easy to get you out of the house?" Jack counters, and he has a point there. Even before the divorce, he never really liked to go out, but when Jack asked to go for lunch, he had readily agreed.

"I don't know. Maybe I was taking your advice. It's not good to sit in the house and all that." Ryan shrugs. He's purposely avoiding the subject of overpriced (actually fairly priced in Ryan's mind) sex with a complete stranger but he knows Jack will get it out of him eventually.

"Bull shit." Jack says casually, forking a bite of food into his mouth.

"See if I come to lunch with _you_ again." Ryan narrows his eyes at his friend.

"This is probably the first real meal you've had in weeks. You'd be a skeleton without me." Jack smiles.

"Yeah, a skeleton." Ryan says, patting his stomach.

"Seriously though," Jack stares at Ryan. "Who is she?"

"She's no one!"

"But she _is_ someone." Jack says smirking. _God dammit._

"Look, it's nothing." Ryan knows he's going to have to explain this soon.

"What's she look like?"

"I don't know.."

"You don't know?" Jack asks, frowning. Ryan shakes his head slowly. "Where did you meet her?"

_In a grey room through a hole in the wall._

"The internet." Ryan says after too long of a pause.

"You're an awful liar Ryan."

"Okay so maybe she's..." Ryan lowers his voice and leans forward. "Maybe she works at one of those sex for cash places." Ryan whispers, and Jack stares blankly at him for a long moment.

"You mean a brothel." Jack's voice is low and monotone.

"Well, it's not exactly like that—"

"James Ryan Haywood." Jack says sternly.

"What? It was your idea!" Ryan defends, and Jack looks confused for a moment before it clicks.

"First of all, I was drunk, and you _know_ that is not what I meant."

"Well maybe you should have clarified." Ryan shrugs, eating more of his food.

"You're unbelievable." Jack shakes his head. "This is the worst idea you've ever had."

"Who says I have an idea? I'm just going there for fun."

"For _fun._ " Jack rolls his eyes. "If I know one thing about you, it's that you don't do anything 'just for fun'."

> It begins to affect Michael’s job in a weird way. He starts imagining that all of his clients are that _guy._ He wishes he had a name, but maybe if he asks Kara nicely enough, she would spill his first name. A first name would give him something to chant in his head the next time he sees him.

It's ridiculous that it's come to this, and he knows that. He knows he shouldn't give one single shit about this guy but he does. _It's the voice._ Michael tells himself. _The voice and great dick combo got me good._

> A few weeks pass and Ryan hasn't been going as often as he used to. If he's honest with himself, the money spending is becoming a bit of an issue. He's not entirely broke yet, but he can't afford to keep going like this if he's going to keep paying for this house.

_I should sell this house._ Ryan thinks suddenly, telling himself that the less than desirable memories of his previous marriage are the reasons for his abrupt realisation. At least that's what he'll tell Jack.

He goes back that night, figuring that he can spoil himself once or twice more before it _absolutely_ has to stop.

Though he really doesn't want it to stop.

Like, ever.

> It's been a while since Michael has seen him, and he starts to wonder if he finally lost interest. He wouldn't blame him, it's not like this is anything real. He has trouble sometimes convincing himself that this is worth it.

But he hears the all too familiar jingling and a clearing throat and he knows before he even looks. _It's him._

He sighs with happiness— a silly fucking thing to do really, because how could he forget that this guy thinks he's a girl. But he finds it hard to care because this guy has some great fucking legs and a nice cock and _shit,_ he's always so good to him.

He doesn't ever try to harshly fuck his mouth, or use slurs like "bitch and cunt" like some of his other clients do. He's gentle and sweet, he warns when he's about to come (but maybe that's just because Michael has learned all of his tells by now) and always leaves a pretty generous tip.

_No,_ Michael does not love him, but _yes,_ Michael wants to hold his face in his hands and kiss him.

He's done hiding it, and he puts all of the effort and emotion into this blowjob that he can. As stupid as that sounds, it's all he can do.

> “Pretty please?” Michael asks. He needs a name, just a first name.

“You have never been this polite in your life.” Kara snorts. He wants to say that’s because he’s never had a reason to be this polite, but then that would imply that learning the first name of a man he will probably never actually meet was important enough to warrant politeness. And that’s scary.

“I’m curious!” He huffs. “And I know yelling at you won’t get me anywhere. Now _please_ tell me?”

She eyes him carefully, like she’s trying to figure out what he’s going to do with this information. “I mean you’re probably on first name basis with him by now.” Michael adds with a laugh. It’s almost to the point where he needs three hands to count all of the times he’d been to Michael’s booth.

Kara is quiet for another long moment before finally sighing. “It’s Ryan.”

The tensed muscles in Michael’s shoulders and neck ease up and he smiles to himself. _Ryan._

> Ryan leaves swearing that things felt different that time.

"I don't know, it felt like she was..." Ryan tries to tell Jack later over the phone. "Like she remembered me. Does that sound weird?”

“Yes. I _told_ you this was a bad idea, Ryan.”

“There’s still no _idea._ ” Ryan counters. “I’m running out of money, so this is all over soon anyway.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, his stomach does a little flip. _Shit_ he is fucked up.

> Michael’s not sure what the special occasion is, but Ryan comes again the next night. He takes it slow with him, wanting to make this last. It's selfish but he doesn't seem to complain. In fact, he's more vocal than he's ever been before.

Michael is already hard but when he hears a soft "yes" from the other side of the wall, his dick twitches involuntarily. That fucking voice.

He gets so easily caught up in the low moans and curses that fall from Ryan’s lips that Michael barely notices that he's started actually speaking.

"Fuck, you're so good, Em."

The nickname spins through Michael's brain and he feels his heart swell up. It was obvious that he'd been coming back to him on purpose but somehow hearing _that_ made everything real. Too fucking real because now Michael has feelings that he definitely shouldn't be having.

He thinks about Ryan actually caring about him. Treating him like a human being and not just a hole to fuck and Michael has to hold back tears because he knows it's a lost hope. Maybe he does care, but he wouldn't once he found out Michael is a _he._

But the praise continues as Ryan thrusts gently into his mouth and Michael let's out a little whimper, making Ryan sigh in return. They're both getting their own sick pleasure out of this.

After Ryan comes, Michael usually watches him do up his pants and go, but this time he's slow to leave. Michael's heart starts beating so loudly he's afraid Ryan can hear it.

"I don't know if you're listening," Ryan's voice is slightly muted on the other side of the wall, but Michael is all ears, kneeling forward slightly. "But this is my last time. I can't do this anymore." Michael nearly shouts his objection before he slaps his hand over his mouth, tears beginning to sting his eyes.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to say that." Ryan says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry." Michael watches as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and walks out. Forever.

All he does is cry.

> Michael doesn't say anything to anyone. He keeps to himself for the next few weeks and eventually, Kara stops him on his way to the dressing room.

"Hey Michael." He stops and turns to look at her.

"What?" He says, sounding more tired than he intended to.

"Haven't seen Ryan in a while.." She raises an eyebrow and Michael just shrugs. "Why's that?"

"How should I know?" Michael snaps, ignoring her and walking off to the dressing room. Lindsay and Barbara pick up on his foul mood immediately, but thankfully they don't say anything.

He was _trying_ to forget about Ryan. Trying and failing, but fuck he was trying. His brain would trick him into thinking that every client who walked through the door was him, only to realise a split second later that they were nothing like him.

They didn't walk like him, or sound like him, or even smell like him and Michael eventually just stopped caring. His performance was probably suffering, but he didn't get any complaints. At least not yet.

_But it's something Ryan would have noticed._

> Ryan has definitely gone back to sulking in his house every day— the house he's currently trying to sell, which is a nightmare by the way. Apparently no one wants to live this far outside of city proper and it's impossible to find a decently priced apartment that isn't a dump.

Jack offers to let him stay at his place for a while until things were all settled but he declines.

"You sure?" Jack always sounds different over the phone.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Ryan assures him. There's a long, awkward silence and Ryan knows what's coming. He hasn't properly talked with Jack in almost a week, and naturally—

"Are you still going to that brothel?" Jack says, and it barely even sounds like a question. It sounds more like he's being scolded by his mother.

"I'm not an addict, Jack. I haven't been there in weeks." Ryan says, proud of himself for how calm he sounds. He's not lying, because he _hasn't_ been there, but he would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. It was taking every bit of his willpower not to go back.

"Fine." Jack says. "I was just checking."

Ryan rolls his eyes.

> After nearly four months of trying to sell his house, some chump finally buys it, and Ryan moves into an apartment complex that _could_ be better, but he settles for it because he's sick of looking.

Jack and his wife throw a little "party" at his new place which really just involves dinner and wine. It's a nice gesture, but Ryan can't really focus. _Four months._

A few hours later he makes an excuse about being tired and getting to sleep early, and thankfully Jack doesn't argue and they both leave. Ryan watches from his window to make sure they are gone before he grabs his keys.

> It's supposed to be Michael's day off, but he agreed to come and help Kara with desk duty as she organized some of the books in the office. He could get used to this, sitting in a comfy chair just waiting for someone to come in, which until now, he hasn't really noticed how often that is.

Of course they have plenty of other employees besides him and Lindsay and Barb (plus there's the whole gay wing of the building), but each of them only gets 3 clients at the most per day, usually only one or two.

He supposes that's the rotation table doing it's job as he leans back in the chair, closing his eyes for a moment. He hears footsteps and opens his eyes, looking up to see a man probably in his thirties with longish light brown hair sort of swept back on the sides. He looks lost, and he clears his throat twice.

"I uh," he starts, and immediately Michael's face goes red. _It's him. That voice._ "Hello." He says nervously. Michael can do nothing but stare at him and he probably seems extremely rude but his brain refuses to let him do anything else. He can't believe he's actually looking at his face. And _fuck_ he's hot.

"Could I speak with the girl who usually works here? Is she here?" Ryan asks, his hand coming up to rub at his throat nervously.

"I'll go get her." Michael somehow manages, suddenly feeling self conscious of his own voice. He mentally slaps himself as he nearly sprints back to the office to get Kara.

"Kara," he breathes out.

"What, Michael?" She sounds irritated for a moment before she catches a glimpse of his face, which has gone from bright red to a sickly pale.

"Ryan is here." His voice cracks slightly and her eyes shoot open.

"What do you want to do?" She asks quietly, studying Michael's face as it turns from stress and worry to pure lust.

"I want to suck his dick." Kara grimaces and rolls her eyes. "You never told me he was hot!" Michael shouts, throwing his hands into the air.

"Okay, stop." She puts her hand up. "Go get ready, and I'll send him back." She's really not sure why she is agreeing to this. Just when Michael was getting over this guy, he had to show up again and ruin everything, But the look of pleading on Michael's face is surprisingly hard to deny.

She makes her way out to the lobby, finding Ryan standing there awkwardly and looking around the building. "Hello." She says, causing Ryan to spin around and look at her.

"Hi." He clears his throat again, about to say something but Kara stops him.

"You want M, right?" She asks with a small smile.

"Uhm, yes.. I'm surprised you remember."

"You caused quite a buzz around here." She says, picking up a phone to call Michael's room, making sure he's ready. "M wasn't supposed to have any clients today." Kara swears she can see the blood drain from Ryan's face. "But they are making an exception for you."

Ryan tries to hide the sigh of relief he lets out, but fails miserably. He pays Kara and stuffs his wallet into his back pocket, making the walk back to the familiar room. He could probably walk around half of this building with his eyes closed by now, and he really doesn’t want to think about how fucking pathetic that is as he makes his way to the small cubicle.

> Michael notices that Ryan doesn’t jingle anymore, and briefly wonders why as Ryan steps towards the wall. He hears him place his hand on the wall and his other hand deals with the button and zip of his jeans, pushing them down and letting an already hard cock spring free. Michael has never seen him like this, so eager and worked up before anything even starts and he _loves_ it.

He greedily takes his dick into his mouth the moment it comes through the wall, and Ryan groans loudly. “Fuck, I missed this.” He says quietly. “I missed you.”

And there it is, that fuzzy overflowing feeling in his chest and Michael whines around him, hopefully conveying his appreciation. He wants to tell Ryan how much he missed this too— he wants to tell him to come back every day, because _shit,_ it feels like he needs this.

“I’m not going to last like this,” Ryan breathes out, and for a moment, Michael considers slowing down and giving Ryan his money’s worth, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to make him come, and he selfishly licks and sucks hard, humming around Ryan’s cock and relishing in the way his breathing hitches in his throat. He bucks lightly into Michael’s mouth, whispering a string of “fuck”s before coming harshly down his throat.

Michael swallows thickly before kneeling back, watching Ryan pull his pants up around his waist. He sighs to himself, wondering how long it's going to be before he sees him again. But Ryan is hesitating and sort of pacing around the room, making Michael anxious. He can hear him mumbling to himself and although it's incredibly cute, Michael is almost shaking.

“Okay,” He hears Ryan say, and he digs into his pockets, pulling out a folded piece of paper. He pushes it through the hole, waiting for Michael to grab it. He reaches out to take it, and lets their fingertips brush against one another.

Ryan sighs at the contact before continuing. “If I don’t hear anything, you won’t ever have to deal with me again.” He says, letting out a nervous laugh. Michael unfolds the paper in his hand, revealing a phone number. _Oh._ “Bye, Em.” Ryan sounds defeated as he leaves, and Michael so desperately wishes that he could run after him and hold him and kiss him but he fucking _can’t._ He can’t do anything. He just cries.

> Michael enters the dressing room in just his boxer-briefs, plopping down in one of the chairs and closing his eyes. He sighs heavily, letting out a shaky, uneven breath. _This can’t be it._

“So what happened?” Lindsay’s voice penetrates his thoughts, making him jump up.

“What do you mean?” Michael shrugs, trying to avoid the subject, but he knows that his eyes are red from crying and he’s still clutching the piece of paper in his hands.

“I know Ryan was here again. Kara told me.” She says, sitting down next to him.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Michael shrugs again.

“Then what’s that?” Lindsay points to the piece of paper that’s now been crumpled up by the force of Michael’s grip.

“He gave me his number.” Michael waits for Lindsay to say something, but she stays quiet, forcing him to continue. “He said that if he didn’t hear from me, he would leave me alone.” Michael laughs. “What a damn moron.”

“You should talk to him.” Lindsay says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“I fucking _can’t._ ” Michael slaps his hands on the armrests of the chair, feeling frustrated. “He thinks I’m a fucking girl. This is all fucked up.” He leans forward, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Look,” She says, placing a hand on Michael’s back and rubbing gently. “I can’t let you mope and sulk like this, so here’s what we’re going to do.”

Michael looks up at her to see a wicked smile, and he knows that this is either going to go incredibly well or extremely wrong. _God dammit._

> Once Ryan parks his car and locks himself into his apartment, he checks his phone nearly every minute. He stretches out on his couch and lays his phone on his chest, checking it compulsively even though it’s on vibrate. The possibility of actually speaking to her is making his hands shake, and he laughs at himself with how ridiculous that sounds.

Despite how busy his brain seems, his body remembers that it’s nearly 2:00 a.m. and he begins to feel the heaviness of sleep settle into his muscles. He tries to fight it, but only manages to look at his phone one last time before he drifts off, hand clasped over the device on his chest.

> He can hear something buzzing, and it’s incredibly annoying. He moves his hand to find the source of the noise, only to have his vibrating phone slide off of his chest and hit him in the chin. Ryan’s eyes shoot open as he picks up the phone and looks at the number— one he doesn’t recognise. _Shit._

He clears his throat a few times before sliding his thumb across the screen to answer. “Hello?” He tries to hide the sleepiness in his voice, but he knows he fails. There’s a fuzzy sound on the other end for a split second before the call drops. For a moment, he panics, not sure what to do, but almost immediately his phone buzzes with a message from the same number.

_> It’s M. Just wanted to make sure you were awake._ **[05:12 a.m.]**

Ryan quickly types back his reply. “I’m awake.”

> _As much as I would love to talk with you on the phone, we need to meet face to face first._ **[05:14 a.m.]**

He’s pretty sure that he’s sweating now. “I can do that.” Of course he’ll do that, he’s been waiting to do it for six months.

> _There’s a great bar downtown. It’s quiet. Meet me there tomorrow night?_ **[05:15 a.m.]** _  
  
_Ryan doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes.” A few moments pass and he receives another text with the name and address of the bar, along with a time— 10:00 p.m. _Damn night owl._

“I’ll be there.” He types out.

> _Sorry for waking you up. Good night, Ryan._ **[05:23 a.m.]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two men finally meet face to face. Will it be a heartfelt reunion or a disastrous misadventure?  
> Find out next time ON DRAGON BALL Z.

Michael waits anxiously at the bar with a beer in his hand. Even though it’s getting late, the place is still relatively quiet. It’s a classy bar, not one of those nightclubs that plays obnoxiously loud music and is always packed with way more people than the maximum occupancy should allow. And he knows the bartender, which is a plus.

He has about half a bottle of his drink left, but he couldn’t really drink any more of it.

“Want some water?” Geoff asks from behind the counter, and Michael nods gratefully. Despite the thorough pep talk he'd gotten from Lindsay, he was still incredibly nervous. He laughs to himself when he thinks about how nervous Ryan might be.

He goes back and forth between the water and beer, not sure if he wants to be sober or drunk for this.

"Is that one him?" Geoff asks for what feels like the hundredth time. He had asked about every guy that walked through the door, and this time Michael sighs and shakes his head as he turns to look.

"Oh fuck," he whispers, quickly turning back towards Geoff, who has an annoying smile on his face.

"You're on your own." Geoff laughs, patting Michael on the shoulder before busting himself with organizing the bottles and wiping down the counter.

He looks over his shoulder at Ryan again, and he's scanning the small crowd, looking lost and awkward. Michael takes a deep breath and a drink of his beer before standing up and walking towards him.

"Ryan." Michael's voice is quieter than it should be. God _damn,_ he's scared.

"Yes?" Ryan looks confused for a moment. "Oh, it's you."

"You know me?" Michael squeaks out, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Well no, I..." Ryan says, studying Michael. He's taller, and sort of towers over him. "You were working at the.. place last night."

Michael let's out a short laugh at Ryan's avoidance of the word brothel. "Yeah, we should sit down." He leads Ryan to a small table meant for two, slightly hidden away from the rest of the patrons. Ryan is reluctant to sit. "Please?"

And Ryan can see the pleading in his eyes, so he sits across from him, hands folded in his lap.

"Alright," Michael starts with a deep sigh. "I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to.." Michael makes a whooshing motion with his hands. One of Ryan's eyebrows quirks up. "I'm M. It's a code for Michael. My name is Michael."

Ryan is quiet for a painfully long time, and Michael is pretty sure he's about to get up and leave. He rubs his face with his hands, not able to look at Ryan anymore as he pushes his palms into his eyes.

"Is this a joke?" Ryan says softly, making Michael look up at him, eyes slightly red.

"No. No, I couldn't do that to you." Michael shakes his head, eyes falling to the wooden table between them. _Don't cry you piece of shit._ He thinks. _Don't fucking cry._

"Michael.." Ryan says the word like he's testing out how it feels on his tongue. "How do I know you're not fucking with me? How do I know.."

There's a long silence between them as they stare at each other but eventually Michael works up the courage to say "Let me prove it."

At first, Ryan laughs, because that's ridiculous. Because _clearly_ Jack was right and all of this was the worst possible idea, but when he looks at Michael's face, he sees nothing but hurt.

"I..." Ryan stutters on his words.

"I don't know what else to do." Michael cuts him off. "I know this is crazy but.. if you're not into it, you won't ever have to deal with me again." Ryan smiles at his own words used against him, and maybe that should have been proof enough. He stares at Michael, taking in his features.

He’s young, with curly, unruly reddish brown hair sticking out in every direction. Freckles decorate his nose and cheeks, and he would have to be blind to miss those dimples. He’s _cute,_ objectively of course. Ryan doesn’t think he’s cute.. Not at all. But he’s been staring for kind of a long time.

Michael stands up from the table, eyes filled with determination and he grabs Ryan’s wrist, pulling him up. He should yank his arm away, he should tell the kid that this is a bad idea, he should do _something,_ but instead, he lets himself walk behind Michael, suddenly aware that they’re heading towards the bathroom. Ryan makes a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a nervous squeak and Michael looks back at him.

“Don’t freak out. No one's paying attention to us.” Michael says softly, and he's sort of right. The population in the building is pretty low, and most of them are preoccupied with something else. Michael opens the door to the bathroom and nudges Ryan inside. It's one of those bathrooms meant for one person at a time, no stalls, so Michael locks the door behind them.

Michael leans back against the door, watching Ryan in front of him before slowly walking forward, gently pushing Ryan back (and he lets himself be pushed) until his back bumps up against a wall. He wastes no time, kneeling down in front of the older man and reaching up to place his hands on his thighs. He looks up to meet Ryan's gaze, and he's staring back down at him, eyes wide and dark.

Ryan watches as Michael's hands move from his thighs to the buckle on his belt, and he sighs loudly, leaning his head back and hitting it on the wall. He has no idea _why_ he's doing this but he can't seem to stop himself. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut as Michael unbuttons his jeans, pushing them down just far enough. His fingers sit at the hem of his boxer-briefs for a moment and he feels ashamed, but his dick apparently doesn't care, because it's definitely taking interest in Michael's actions.

"Tell me if you want to stop." Michael says quietly, licking his lips as his fingers dip under the band of Ryan's underwear, not missing the hiss of air he let out.

Ryan doesn't trust himself to say anything other than " _Don't stop_ " so he settles on saying nothing as Michael finally frees his cock, making a happy noise. A very _familiar_ happy noise.

He opens his eyes again when Michael puts his mouth on him, licking at the tip and placing a kiss there before abruptly taking his entire length into his mouth. The motion catches Ryan off guard and he moans loudly.

Michael hums around him and _fuck_ that feels familiar too. It should feel wrong; there's another _guy_ sucking his dick in the bathroom of a bar, but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels fucking amazing and eventually, he lets his hand rest tentatively in Michael's curls, his fingers carding through. He leans into the touch, his eyes drifting closed as he works up and down Ryan's length.

Michael pauses from time to time to do things that he clearly knows drive Ryan crazy. He licks at the sensitive skin under the tip and squeezes firm at the base, letting his teeth gently graze the flesh as he moves back, releasing Ryan with a soft pop.

He groans at the loss of Michael's mouth, and he looks down at him, about to ask why he stopped but the protest dies in his throat when he sees the look on Michael's face.

He's looking up at Ryan, his eyes filled with more than just lust; something that looks a lot like hope and pleading.

And that's exactly what it is. For all the dicks he’s sucked, he’s never wanted to make someone feel _good_ like he wants to make Ryan feel good. He tries to convey all of his feelings into this and as ridiculous as that sounds, it's the only thing he knows how to do. He feels like his fucking life depends on this blowjob and he studies Ryan's face, trying to decipher what those half-lidded eyes mean and if the noises he was making earlier were good noises or bad ones, because even though Ryan's leaking cock is two inches from his face, he's still afraid he doesn't _really_ have him.

He licks his lips, and looks down, preparing himself to continue so he can at least finish this one last time, but he suddenly feels hands on his shoulders, gripping at his shirt and pulling him up. His torso collides with Ryan's as he's pulled close and Ryan's cock pushes into his thigh, making Michael sigh contendedly.

Ryan stares at him for a moment before his eyes flicker down to Michael's lips. _His perfect fucking mouth._ And it's probably the dumbest, most reckless thing Ryan has ever done, but he pulls Michael forward, and presses their mouths together.

At first all he can taste is himself and that's pretty gross, but he loves the way Michael sags into his touch the moment their lips meet and he loves the pleased noises Michael is making as their mouths move against each other, and eventually, all he can taste is beer and _Michael_ and he's pretty sure he wants to remember that taste forever.

So he gets bold, and spins them around, putting Michael's back against the wall and kissing him harder, having no control over the way his hips push forward and grind into Michael's leg. He hears Michael make a sound of protest and Ryan backs off immediately, looking down at him like he'd done something wrong.

"Ryan.." Michael groans, slouching down slightly now that he's lost his support. "I feel like I'm screwing myself over by saying this, but I like you too much to keep quiet.." He says softly. "I don't want you to do this if you're not sure. We can stop." And the fact that Michael is so composed right now is a mystery to Ryan, because he's not even sure if he can form complete sentences.

"I shouldn't enjoy this.." Ryan says quietly, his eyes fixed on Michael's face and his hand subconsciously reaching down to stroke himself.

"But you _are_ enjoying it?" Michael asks hopefully, his eyes trailing down to watch Ryan slowly jerk himself off.

"Yes," Ryan breathes out, closing the distance between them again, kissing and biting at Michael's lower lip. Michael’s breath hitches as Ryan moves to mouth at Michael's jaw, eventually settling on his neck and sucking lightly at his collar bone. "How did you do this to me.."

But Michael doesn't even bother to answer because he has _no idea._ He will probably never understand what the hell happened in here and to be fair, he doesn't really care to. All he knows is that he's really fucking hard and his jeans are actually starting to hurt him. He reaches in between them, giving Ryan's dick a few strokes before moving to undo his own jeans. The sound of the zipper makes Ryan freeze for a moment before he abandons Michael's throat, straightening up to meet his gaze.

Michael frees himself from his underwear and gives a few pumps, pretty sure that he's not going to last much longer if Ryan keeps looking at him like that, so he takes matters into his own hands, grabbing Ryan's hips and pulling him forward. Ryan sucks in a big gulp of air as their cocks brush together, and Michael reaches between them once more, his hand wrapping around both of them at once. He watches as Ryan practically melts into him, leaning forward and burying his nose in the space where Michael's neck and shoulder meet.

"Move." Michael commands. And Ryan does, thrusting his hips forward into Michael’s hand, huffing breath out onto Michael’s neck. The friction created has Michael's head spinning, and he's almost struggling to stay upright.

"Michael.." Ryan moans, and even though the name still sounds like a test on his tongue, it makes Michael shiver. "God, you feel good like this." He praises, sucking gently on his neck.

But every sensation together is becoming too much, and he can feel the warmth gathering low in his stomach. He fists his hand in Ryan's hair, pulling him into a harsh kiss, before leaning his head back, exposing his throat. "Shit Ryan, I'm.."

"Are you close?" Ryan asks breathlessly, and all Michael can do is nod. "I want you to come." Ryan whispers, and that's actually all it takes and Michael nearly doubles over with the force of his orgasm, pressing his face into Ryan's chest. He breathes in deep, letting the smell of the older man's cologne and laundry detergent infiltrate his senses.

He pants into Ryan's chest for a moment before backing off and looking up at him. Ryan still has him up against the wall as he wipes some of the mess off of his hand and buttons up his jeans. Ryan is looking at him with a weird expression, but he ignores it and pushes him back slightly, allowing him to switch their positions again.

"Now let me finish what I started." He says, dropping down and positioning himself between Ryan's legs, and it's so fucked up, but Ryan is pretty sure he could come just from _looking_ at Michael like this.

Because Michael is not at all what he expected when he got into this mess, and he'd be a liar if he tried to say that he wasn't a little disappointed when he first met the kid but here, _now,_ he can't even remember what he thought "Em" might have looked like, because Michael sure as hell seems perfect.

"Fuck, Michael. You're so.." He trails off, not sure what adjective he wants to use to accurately describe him, but he doesn't have to decide because Michael thrums around Ryan's cock, knowing exactly how to _ruin_ him. He tangles his fingers into Michael's hair, pushing his hips forward enough so that he nearly bottoms out in Michael's throat, his orgasm hitting him hard enough that he screws his eyes shut, groaning loudly.

> Ryan pays for Michael's drink and leaves the bar. He hadn't really said much before he left besides the promise to contact him again.. He just didn't say _when._ Because he knows he will need a few days to understand what the fuck just happened.

He wakes up the next morning to a few messages from Jack. Most of them reading something along the lines of "is everything okay?" Ryan laughs to himself. _What a mother bear._

He sends a simple text, "Let's get lunch tomorrow."

> "And where have you been, young man?" Kara crosses her arms as Michael walks into the building. "You're nearly 2 hours late!"

"You don't want to know.." Michael says, smiling. He feels pretty guilty about going to _work_ right after sucking Ryan off in a bathroom. Unfortunately he's in no position to quit because he _needs_ that money, but he still feels giddy after spending time with Ryan. Spending time with him _for real_.

"I hate you." Kara says, and Michael's not sure if she's figured it out yet, but she will— she always does, but Michael just jogs back to the dressing room.

"I'm surprised you still have both your arms." Barbara laughs when Michael enters the back room.

"Does she know where you were?" Lindsay asks and Michael just shrugs.

"Probably." He's unable to hide his smile when he recalls the night's earlier events.

"Well, what happened?" Lindsay looks so hopeful, it's kind of adorable.

"Ohh, something happened?" Barbara wiggles her eyebrows at him.

"God, you guys are so fucking dumb." Michael says laughing.

> Ryan meets Jack at their usual place, and before he even sits down, he knows that Jack _knows_ something is up.

“So what’s the special occasion?” Jack asks nonchalantly after they order their food.

“Okay look,” Ryan clears his throat. “I’m not going to bullshit you, because you’ll find out anyway.”

“Damn right, I will.” Jack scoffs.

“Alright so _maybe_ I gave the person I’d been seeing at the uh,” Ryan stares at Jack blankly as if that would convey the word he’s been trying so desperately to avoid. “Anyway, I gave them my number.” Jack shakes his head. “And they told me to meet them at a bar.” 

“They..” Jack says, quirking an eyebrow.

“That’s the funny part.” Ryan actually laughs, because Jack is going to kill him. “Turns out it’s a guy.” 

“A _guy.._ ”

“A dude.” Ryan clarifies with a nod. 

“Funny.” Jack says flatly. “Sorry to hear that.” He huffs out a laugh. And Ryan laughs too because at this point he probably thinks that’s ‘problem solved’ and that Ryan hadn’t actually fucked up this badly.

“I kind of like him.” Ryan blurts out.

Naturally, Ryan doesn’t go into the _details_ of what happened at the bar, but to his surprise, Jack is actually fairly supportive as they talk about Michael over lunch.

“Man, I really thought you would like, disown me for this.” Ryan confesses.

“I’m not your mother, Ryan.” Jack laughs. “You can do whatever you want.” He shrugs, throwing handful of bills onto the table.

“It’s just, you know..” Ryan tries to think of the best way to word what he wants to say. “You’re my best friend— my only friend probably. I’m just glad you’re not pissed off.” Jack’s face lights up with that and he smiles warmly.

“You worry too much.” He says, slapping Ryan’s shoulder and standing up from their table. He pays for lunch, because he knows Ryan is poor as shit right now.

Ryan is just thankful for having a friend like Jack.

> Two days after the incident at the bar, Michael’s phone rings. It’s 3:34 p.m. but he’s usually not up until five or six. He doesn’t even look at the number before clapping the phone to his ear and answering with a groggy “Hello?”

“Michael?” He recognises Ryan’s voice immediately.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat, trying not to sound like he’d just woken up.

“Did I wake you up? I forgot about your schedule. I can call back later, let you get back to slee—”

“Don’t you dare hang up.” Michael says, sitting up in his bed. “I figured you weren’t going to call.”

“I know.” Ryan actually sounds pretty beat up about it. “I’m really sorry about that. I had to take stock.” And really, Michael can understand that… _I guess._ He’s trying his best not to be selfish. “I wanted to ask if you would meet me somewhere.” Ryan says smoothly. Michael closes his eyes, fairly certain that he could listen to Ryan talk all day long. “So we can talk in person.”

“Come over.” Michael says suddenly, wincing once the words left his mouth. “I mean, if that’s okay—”

“Perfect.” Ryan’s voice goes high on the last syllable, making Michael smile.

“Okay..” Michael bites his lip.

He sends Ryan the address in a text and the next thirty minutes are spent in a whirlwind of Michael picking up every item that might have fallen out of place. For a moment he has a debate on what he should wear before he decides that’s fucking _stupid_ and stays in the sleeveless shirt and sweatpants he was sleeping in.

His phone buzzes with a message from Ryan that says “ _please answer when i knock_ ” and Michael snorts laughing, and a few seconds later, Ryan knocks.

Michael swings the door open to see Ryan in his signature pair of jeans (he’s pretty sure the guy only owns one pair) and a plain black t-shirt. He looks nice, god dammit. “Come on.” Michael waves Ryan in, watching as the older man glances around the small apartment.

“Nice place.” Ryan says smiling.

“It’s really not.”

“It’s in a nice part of town at least.” Ryan shrugs, and there’s an awkward silence that settles over them for far too long.

“So what did you want to say that couldn’t be said over the phone?” Michael says finally. “Not that I mind you coming over.” He smiles shyly.

“I’m glad.” Ryan returns the smile. "Can we sit down?"

Michael feels his cheeks flush. "Yeah sure, sorry." He says, leading Ryan to the small sofa in the living room. They're forced to sit fairly close together on the small piece of furniture, making their knees and thighs bump together.

"Hi." Ryan says with a smirk.

"God you're so lame." Michael huffs, rolling his eyes. "Just tell me already, you're making me all nervous and shit."

"Right." Ryan runs his fingers through his hair. "I like you— and not just because of the blow jobs, although those are pretty great."

“I like you too.” Michael says quietly. “That sounded stupid.”

Ryan looks down at his hands and laughs lightly. “It’s not stupid.” When he looks back up at Michael, his eyes are serious. “But I have to tell you that if we’re going to do _this,_ ” He waves a hand between them. “It’s going to be really, _really_ hard for me to share you.”

Michael stares at him confused. “Share me?”

“Your job, Michael.”

“Oh yeah..” That was a little detail he’d somehow managed to forget as soon as Ryan walked into the room, which probably says something about the guy that he’s too scared to think about. “Fuck, I can’t quit.” He runs a hand down his face, not sure what he’s going to do about that because he hadn’t really thought about it, and he _needs_ that job. Or any job really, but you don’t exactly get into the dick sucking business because you want to. You usually end up there because you’re no good at anything else.

“I don’t expect you to— at least not yet.” Ryan says calmly. “I know we’ve already seen each others dicks and everything, but I want to take this slow.” He looks at Michael hunched over on the couch with his head in his hands and he wants to touch his hair or rub his back or _something_ but he’s actually too nervous to. And that’s why things need to be slow. _Jesus Christ._

“Okay..” Michael sits up and locks eyes with Ryan. “I can do that.. probably.” He smiles playfully, and it fills Ryan’s heart up with some emotion he’s not sure he knows how to define, but he’s not really concerned with giving it a name right now. “Can we kiss at least?” Michael asks, leaning a bit closer.

“I suppose.” Ryan sighs dramatically, but inches forward, closing the space between them until their lips brush together. Ryan feels almost blissful as Michael begins to kiss him more enthusiastically and he wonders if it will ever stop feeling like this. He hopes it never does.

Michael is slowly trying to work his way into Ryan’s lap, making the older man’s cheeks go slightly red before he nudges him away. “I have to go.” He smiles down at the redhead who looks just as flustered as he is. “We can continue this later.” And after a lot of groaning and pleading and a few more kisses, Ryan finally makes it out the door and back to his car, humming to himself happily.

 _No,_ it’s not perfect. It’s incredibly far from perfect, but it’s something tangible and that’s good enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's it!!! that's the end... well kind of. i have no idea how ao3 works really, but i'm either going to make an epilogue or a part 2 that explores some of their ~issues~ and insecurities with each other, etc.  
> i'm looking forward to writing it so _hopefully_ i get it done soon.  
>  thanks everybody for reading!! [smooch]
> 
> p.s. i got a tumblr under the same name (wolfspa), if you want to talk about fic canons or ideas or anything really, come on down, because i love talking about this sort of stuff with people (ღ˘⌣˘ღ)

**Author's Note:**

> feedback / suggestions are always welcome, thank you!


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